


I had no chance to prepare (I couldn't see you coming)

by flowers4flowers



Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: F/M, but with a twist, despite having exactly 0 experience doing so, in which the author attempts to write action, many thanks to Frank Ocean for providing the soundtrack to this fic, no beta readers we self-edit like men, tenses?? what are those?, the obligatory "MJ figures it out" fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-28 23:56:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15717690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowers4flowers/pseuds/flowers4flowers
Summary: An hour passes, then two. People filter in and out, cars go past, conversation never ceases, and yet Michelle is immune to all the noise and distraction in her little corner.She vaguely hears some loud banging coming from outside, but she can tell Bathsheba’s about to make a very poor decision, and she can’t turn away in the midst of this fictional character’s personal crisis. Besides, it’s New York. There’s always a banging noise going on in this city, what makes this one special?Then, the window next to her shatters.-a coffee shop AU. of sorts.





	I had no chance to prepare (I couldn't see you coming)

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the fic that came out of nowhere and took over my life for the past three days. It's my first ever coffee shop au, and of course I would decide to throw some good ol' MCU stylings at it to give myself a challenge. Also, iw is just... not a Thing in this story. 
> 
> Any and all mistakes are my own, and thank you for reading!
> 
> Enjoy!

Michelle Jones has always had a structured way in which she goes about her week. In the chaos of everything, specifically high school, having an order to things helps Michelle get work done and keep her head on straight. 

Mondays and Wednesdays are dedicated to her English and Spanish homework because it always gives her ample time to prep for the quizzes her teachers give out on Fridays. Tuesdays are for Chem because she hates it and the sooner it’s done the better-she’d push it to Monday, but then the whole schedule is thrown off, and she can’t have that. Thursdays are not beholden to any particular class, so she spends her spare time reading course work or prepping for Decathlon practice after school.

Fridays are her favorite. Because on Fridays she gives herself a break, takes some time away from being _Michelle Jones, current pupil of Midtown School of Science and Technology, Captain of the AcaDec team_. In her favorite coffee shop, located about two blocks from her home, she can just be Michelle. Michelle who comes in every Friday, orders a medium caramel macchiato, and sits at the corner table and reads. 

Her parents don’t mind that she spends her time here on Fridays, especially since they know that she uses the time as a mental detox. “The last thing we want you to do is burnout,” they said to her the first time she asked to go the coffee shop after school. “You shouldn’t forget yourself when planning your life. Obviously, keep a leg up in school, but you don’t have to ask us for permission to take a pause every week.” Sometimes she’ll get a text from them with a coffee order to pick up before she heads out, but for the most part these hours are Michelle’s, and Michelle’s alone.

Today she’s brought _Far From the Madding Crowd_ , a book she’d never considered reading till a question on it came up in her AcaDec prep questions. She figures she might as well read it since it seems likely she’ll be quizzed on it at some point in the near future, and she settles into her chair and gets to know the world according to Bathsheba Everdene. 

An hour passes, then two. People filter in and out, cars go past, conversation never ceases, and yet Michelle is immune to all the noise and distraction in her little corner. 

She vaguely hears some loud banging coming from outside, but she can tell Bathsheba’s about to make a very poor decision, and she can’t turn away in the midst of this fictional character’s personal crisis. Besides, it’s New York. There’s always a banging noise going on, what makes this one special?

Then, the window next to her shatters. 

Michelle throws herself to the ground, and covers her head as glass and wood rains down around her. She doesn’t know what to do after that, can’t see anything from her position on the floor. A high pitched noise blares through the space, working its way into her head and making her ears ache. She can’t hear anything else, and she squeezes her arms tighter around her head in a weak attempt to block the sound out. Then it’s cut off, and a sharp **clang** rings out as though something is banging against metal. Her ears still hurt, but she starts to pick out other sounds coming from around her. There’s people yelling, more glass breaking, and Michelle swears she can hear someone yelling her name. But that must be a mistake-no one from school lives nearby, and her parents should still be at work. Maybe it’s just her brain looking for comfort in the moment, comfort that could help her feel more secure as everything around her dissolves into chaos.

Michelle hears the telltale sign of people running in fear, but she doesn’t move, too frozen by the onslaught of noises and sheer terror that has her rooted to the floor. There’s a slight stinging sensation in her arms, and Michelle looks up and finds that she has several shallow cuts on her arms that likely came from the window shattering next to her. She moves her limbs and flexes her back, but finds nothing a miss, and she breathes easier knowing that she’s not seriously hurt. 

She’s of half a mind to call her parents, but Michelle doesn’t know what’s going on outside, and the last thing she needs is for her parents to enter an area that’s not safe. Besides, a few seconds later she spots her phone lying several feet away, and judging by the deep crack racing across it, she won’t be able to call anyone on it anytime soon. 

Feet run past her field of view, people getting out of the shop as quickly as possible. There’s still so much splintered wood and dust in the air that Michelle actually can’t quite tell where other people are, and where the damage is. She picks up the smell of something sour and unusually sharp, and when she turns to the source she can see people reel back from the doorway as a bright orange substance splatters on the doormat.

“It’s toxic, get back!” Michelle doesn’t know who yells that, but a red blur swings by the broken window, and she has a strong suspicion as to just who that is. Which means that the whole explosion-loud noise-toxic slime situation makes a whole lot more sense. But she doesn't have any spare time to ponder the red blur, because another explosion goes off near the doorway, and she scoots farther underneath her table.

“Under the tables, get out of the doorway,” the owner shouts, and she spots the baristas pushing people behind the counter and under the remaining upright tables. Whatever escape they all might have had is gone, and for the time being they’re stuck in the shop as a legit _battle_ rages on outside. 

So much has happened in a short period of time, and while it feels like hours have come and gone, Michelle knows only minutes have passed by. Everything has been uprooted and smashed, and things Michelle believed to be normal are no longer normal because this place is supposed to be _safe_. She may live in the most alien-attack-prone city in the world, but her little coffee shop is supposed to be a safe haven amid the chaos of it all. And now actual chaos has descended upon it, and on her Friday no less. 

Michelle’s not just scared, she pissed as all hell. If her survival instincts weren’t keeping her where she is, she’d be half tempted to go outside and fight the asshole who did this herself. Attacking civilians is so low she has absolutely no sympathy for the jackass she can hear getting their ass handed to them just outside the window. 

The window that they broke, when they decided to be an asshole.

Sirens are starting to get louder, but Michelle figures they won’t be able to get too close until the fight outside becomes contained. There’s a lot of smashing going on, and it sounds like one of the fighters is yelling, though she can’t make out the words. She hears a sharp yelp, and then nothing for several long seconds.

Suddenly there’s a loud _thud_ behind her, and what sounds like someone grunting in pain. She quickly turns around, and makes direct eye contact with Spiderman. Spiderman. The actual Spiderman. What. The. Hell.

“Are you alright M-ah-I-uh- _miss_?” He seems to be deliberately modulating his voice, but Michelle's so distracted by the actual sight of him that her observation barely registers. "Miss?" 

Looking up at Spiderman, _real, actual Spiderman holy shit what is this day!?_ , Michelle’s mind helpfully blanks, and she’s left looking at him in what she can only assume is bewildered amazement. Several seconds pass with her rapidly blinking at him, and when she snaps back to reality she finds she’s still at a loss for coherent thought, and so says the first thing that comes to mind.

“I should ask you that question, because right now I’m not the one who’s just been thrown through a window.” _Good enough_. Spiderman cocks his head to the side, but with the mask on she has little chance of working out the emotions he’d have playing across his face. 

“Fair enough, although right now I’d say it qualifies as more of a scenic outlook than a window.”

“I hear the views are great this time of year.”

Spiderman laughs a little breathlessly, although Michelle doesn’t think that what she’s said is that funny. Maybe he’s a bit delirious from the fight, and she can’t blame him if he is. “Are you bantering with me in the middle of a fight?”

“Maybe, but you’re a superhero. Shouldn’t you be used to this kind of thing?” It’s a cliche, but every superhero movie she’s ever seen typically has at least some light banter, and if Michelle’s going to do anything on this bizarre day, it’s have some light banter with Spiderman.

She can’t believe that that’s a sentence she gets to say.

They look at each other for a beat, but the moment is broken when more orange goo comes flying through the window. And apparently Spiderman’s reflexes are something else, because one moment he’s on the table, and the next minute he’s lying across Michelle’s back. He lies there for a few seconds, but quickly jumps off when Michelle’s brain catches up and she involuntarily tenses. She doesn’t want him to think he’s done anything wrong, so she gives him wheezy “thanks”, which he accepts with a nod. 

Looking around to see if anyone’s hurt, she sees that he’s thrown nets over the people nearby. The nets seem to have caught the goo, and she seizes the joy that rushes through her on seeing everyone unharmed, and acts on it by throwing her arms around Spiderman and pulling him into a crushing hug. He doesn’t react right away, but his arms quickly go around her as he squeezes back.

“Go get ‘em tiger.” She whispers before letting go, and lightly shoves him back towards the window. 

Spiderman laughs and mocks salutes her. He turns and slings a web out to a building opposite the coffee shop, and before she knows it he’s gone. 

The fight doesn’t last long after that, and when the police finally move onto the scene Michelle and the others only linger for a few more minutes before they’re told they can head home. The instant Michelle walks through the door her parents are on her, asking question after question amidst tears and long hugs. 

Her dad orders in a pizza, and all three of them squeeze onto the couch as she answers all their questions the best she can, and gives them a full rundown of what happened. They end up falling asleep on the couch, tangled together in a mess of limbs. Michelle falls asleep literally surrounded by the love of her parents, her mind and heart clear because she’s told them every detail of her afternoon from hell. All her fear, all her sadness has been aired to the two people she loves unconditionally. 

She’s only kept one detail from them, one detail that naggles at the back of her brain long into the night. 

Michelle swears that she heard Spiderman say “Stay safe Michelle” as he swung out of the coffee shop. And Michelle doesn’t recall telling him her name.

-  
**_Four months later_ **

Michelle Jones has always had a structured way in which she goes about her week. But on occasion she can make an exception to her own rules. Or sometimes the rules are just straight up tossed out the window, as evidenced by the last Friday she spent in the coffee shop.

But today there’s actually something pleasant that’s changing her schedule, something Michelle has been waiting all week for.

Parker’s joining her today, officially under the guise of studying for a test they have in Spanish on Monday. That’s what Michelle is telling herself, because reading too far into it only makes her brain hurt, and it’s Friday, and her brain hurting is not scheduled for Fridays.

Another thing that also makes this Friday special is that it is the first Friday in over four months that she can come into the coffee shop. The repairs to the place took quite some time, considering that not every contractor seems prepared to tackle damage caused by Spiderman and his fights against goo-slinging robots. The barista behind the counter had informed her that the acid damage to the storefront had taken weeks to get cleaned off and repaired, and the ensuing safety checks had also taken up a big chunk of time, considering that the owner was not exactly keen on having any toxic substances lingering on his doorstep. 

But now the shop is repaired, clean, and Michelle inhales deeply when she settles into her corner. She smells her caramel macchiato, the new wood framing the windows, the light tang of new paint. She leans back in her chair, and scrolls through her phone as she waits for Peter.

Parker shows up nearly fifteen minutes late, blustering into the coffee shop like he’s got the wind howling at his back. And maybe it is, she’s been paying such close attention to her phone she hasn’t really noticed the weather outside. She noticed Parker when he walked in, but she’s just observant. That’s all, nothing more, nothing less.

She also may observe that Parker with windswept hair is a rather pleasant sight, but she files that away to the back of her brain for later consideration. 

He orders his drink and practically throws himself into the chair opposite hers, apologies falling fast and loose. She cuts him off with a raised hand. “I’m not angry, loser. You don’t have to apologize for being a tad late.” He nods in understanding. “But,” and he blanches so quickly it’s actually somewhat impressive. “Don’t be late again. Or, at least text me a headsup.”

“Yo-you want this to happen again?” He gestures between the two of them, actual shock registering on his face.

“I should ask you that question, because right now I’m not the one who looks like he’s amazed and confused by this turn of events.” She means it jokingly, and Peter catches on and ducks his head as he lets out a deep belly laugh. 

“Fair point.” 

And then Peter tilts his head in a way that is eerily familiar, and-oh. 

Oh _shit_.

**Author's Note:**

> When I started writing this I spitballed it as coming in around 500 words. 
> 
> lol
> 
> But, I hope you enjoyed it, and thank you for reading! 
> 
> As always, comments are appreciated, but never required :)


End file.
